


Scars

by ozuttly



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: F/F, Scars, bathing together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 10:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20134132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozuttly/pseuds/ozuttly
Summary: Sawa and Misora bathe together for the first time.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poeticname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticname/gifts).

The first time Sawa and Misora bathe together, it’s purely to save on water. After all, Nascita didn’t actually bring in any money as a cafe, and they needed to save resources where they could, especially with so many people now adding to their ranks. The boys bathed together too, of course. Sawa almost thinks that she might have preferred to go with their group, giving Misora the bath for herself, but that idea had been immediately rejected. 

She feels a bit dirty, though, as she looks back at Misora’s flawless skin as she steps into the tub. 

“Is something wrong?” Misora asks, her head tilting to the side, and Sawa realizes that she’s been staring. She quickly shakes her head, embarrassment flushing her cheeks pink. 

“No, no, just admiring your skincare, is all. You must have a great routine...” she says, wrapping her towel tighter around her torso. She doesn’t want to let it fall, even though Misora has long since set her towel aside. 

It’s not necessarily being naked in front of others that bothers Sawa. In fact, if she was with the boys right now she’s sure that she would have been perfectly confident to drop her towel and bathe even if they were watching. But there’s something about Misora, about the softness of her skin and the way that she still has an innocent light in her eyes that gives Sawa pause. 

She doesn’t want Misora to see her scars. 

It’s not normally something she’s ashamed of. She’s slept with women before, here and there flings that had no meaning other than mutual relief. She hadn’t cared what they thought of her imperfect body, and yet. With Misora it’s different. 

Misora doesn’t see her as a Nanba child, or a former spy, or any of the things that she is. She doesn’t see her for her betrayals or the blood on her hands – she just sees her as another human being, a friend. 

It makes Sawa’s heart clench, and she doesn’t want to ruin that. 

But Misora is staring at her expectantly, gesturing towards the bath with one hand, and Sawa can’t put it off any longer. She slowly unfolds her towel, setting it on the rack as she walks over to the bath and climbs in. It’s just big enough for the two of them, but just small enough that their knees knock together a little bit. Sawa is glad for the heat of the steam, because it disguises the faint flush on her face. 

Misora is staring at her. She had expected it, but it’s still nerve-wracking, to feel the eyes of the girl that she likes so much examining the proof of her upbringing. She flinches a little when Misora’s hand glides down to her side, in between her fourth and fifth ribs. The wound there is so old that it’s long since stopped hurting, but it’s still a surprise to feel the soft touch of fingers against her skin. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to,” Misora says quickly, yanking her hand away as though she’s been burned. Guilt colours her face, and in turn makes Sawa feel bad for her reaction. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, she’s reached out and grabbed Misora’s wrist in her hand, holding it gently so that she can’t pull away. 

She stares down at it for a second, Misora looking up at her in confusion, and then she immediately lets go. 

“No, I’m sorry, I just-- It just startled me, that’s all. I-if you want to touch, you can,” she says, her voice only shaking minutely. Misora stares at her curiously, as though she’s not really sure if it’s ok or not, before she reaches out and touches again, her fingers tracing the edge of where a bullet had torn its way through Sawa’s side. 

It had been her first time working as a spy when she was fifteen years old, back when she had been young and inexperienced. She had made a mistake on her get away, and an armed guard for the rich businessman she had been stealing from had caught her on her way out of his estate. Nanba had been upset at her foolishness, even as she had presented him with the files he wanted, and had threatened not to sew her up the next time. 

She had thought herself beyond fear at that point in her life, but the thought of lying, delirious, on the operating table still gave her chills despite her best efforts. 

“It looks like it must have hurt,” Misora says, soft and unjudging. Her fingers glide to another scar under Sawa’s left breast, a mark from a kitchen knife during a dinnertime fight that had gone out of hand. Next is a slice across her outer thigh from a training accident, then a burn mark on her solar plexus. Misora touches all of them reverently, and they’re only the ones that she can see from the front, but Sawa feels tears gathering in the corners of her eyes before she can help herself. 

‘They’re not that bad’ is what she wants to say. ‘It’s not a big deal’ is what she wants to say. ‘It’s nothing that you need to worry about’ is what she wants to say. Instead she finds her breath hitching in her throat. 

“Yeah,” she says, sniffling a little in spite of herself. “They really hurt a lot.” 

Misora looks very sad as she moves forward and pulls her into her arms, the soft weight of her reassuring and grounding against Sawa’s front. 

“It’s ok,” she says, always gentle and reassuring. Sawa sniffles again, and barely stifles a sob as she pulls Misora in tightly against herself. Misora squeezes her back, and Sawa is only a little flustered by their mutual nakedness. 

“You’ve been bearing a lot for a long time,” Misora says softly into her ear, and Sawa nods her head in response. “You can always rely on me, if you want to talk about it.” 

Sawa considers it. She considers spilling her guts to Misora, telling her about all of the horrors that she has witnessed, about all of the things inflicted on her. But that’s not Misora’s cross to bear, and Misora’s innocence has been tainted enough by this war. She doesn’t want to sully it further, even though she’s sure that Misora would be angry with her for the thought. 

“It’s fine,” Sawa says in a small voice instead, resting her chin on Misora’s shoulder. “You being here is enough for me.”

She plants a small kiss on her cheek, soft and unassuming, and Misora’s face goes gentle as she pulls back just enough so that she can rest their foreheads together. 

“I mean it,” she says quietly. “I want you to be able to rely on me, if you need to. I want to be there for you, no matter what your past has put you through. Ok?”   
Sawa’s face heats up at the declaration, and she swallows thickly as she nods her head. 

Because she does rely on her, more than Misora will ever know.


End file.
